The Ancient's Song
by islandsun
Summary: Harry Potter is not the only person Voldemort needed to return,Voldemort kills four of the five Ancients, and the last one must make an alliance with Harry Potter if he wants his revenge. A/N: The Ancients are some O/C's of mine.
1. First There Were Five

Chapter One

First there were Five

Wormrtail stared at the dead body of the old man, his hands pressed against his chest in a cowardly manner. He dared not speak before his lord until he spoke to him.

Wormtail knew better than most that it is not smart to offend Lord Voldemort after he killed.

"What are you waiting for Wormtail! Dispose of this old man!" Shouted Voldemort icily, hiding his inner smile of having the chance to dispatch such a stupid man. Wormtail fumbled for his wand, but quickly cast a spell lifting up the old Gardner and placing him in the room closest to theirs so that Nagini could have her feast in private.

As soon as he was out of sight, Voldemort resumed his talk of schemes with his cowardly servant.

"What of the Romans, Wormtail?"

"Th..the Romans my Lord? Oh, yes p-please forgive me…Lord… I now know that they will now be attending the World Cup."

The dark lord only needed a moment of thought before he brought what was left of his face into a snarl.

"You stupid Rat! Why didn't you mention that when we spoke of the World Cup earlier. If that is the only place that we can find them than that is where we shall go! Bring my servant with you!" commanded the dark lord, his order complimented by a menacing hiss of his pet as she descended to her meal.

While a certain black haired boy woke screaming in a place far, far away, five young people could be found walking across the small stone ruins of what was once Hadrian's wall. The dividing line between the Romans and the Scotts in the ancient world.

These five brown haired youths walked without any care in the world, well, except one, the obvious leader and the oldest who walked with a purpose that almost annoyed his companions.

"Come on Marcus! There is no need to be in a hurry!" called Marcus's brother Atticus who had his arm around his girlfriend Julia, both walking with a sway that a slow dancing couple could envy.

"Come on Atticus! There is no need to waste time! The World Cup is miles away, and I would probably not be going at such a pace if we did not have to walk the whole distance!" He shouted back.

* "Festina Lente! That is all that you will accomplish going like that if we do not show the same merit." proclaimed Brody, who stood taller and flimsier than his friends.

Atticus smiled at the debate he inspired, but instead of joining in he simply looked affectionately at his partner and nuzzled her in closer to him. Julia smiled back, not wanting to take Marcus's side for fear that she would lose this time with Atticus.

All the while the fifth member of their group, Clemens, walked just behind the loving couple, and while he walked silently on the wild grasses if you were to place your ear close enough you could catch a sigh- sigh of jealousy for his friend's closeness, a sigh that only worked to solidify his thoughts about longing in his mind so that they would remain no matter how hard he beat them off.

But his jealousy was undetectable to his friends as they walked through the night.

But something could be heard, a song was being sung by Atticus and Julia, one that all of the group knew by heart. And while most people would have found them impossible to understand, as they sang in the Latin language, each of them knew exactly what each word meant.

We sing as is sung

For the day is not done

About how we're together

My love!

As we step together

Tonight without weather

I'll remember you my love!

To you I suggest

A final request

That we stay together

Oh Please!

For when Ashes

Return to the Ashes

We will still be together

Oh love!

And that when the

Fire Bird Rises

From our very own ashes

We will still fly together My love!

While the lovers walked together and sang their own song, the rest hummed along in respect.

And even Clemens's jealousy was quenched with a sympathy for his happy friends who had fallen in love under that song-as it was a very powerful song.

Then again, there was rarely a song that was sung from their lips that was not without a power that the world had so long ago forgotten.

But the group of five, all dressed in black denim jackets, dress pants and white t-shirts, kept walking by the wall until they found the portkey to take them to the World Cup. It couldn't have been too far they all thought.

While they had finished their lyrics all of them kept humming the lulling tune in hopes that they would all collapse asleep so that they might drift to a better place. Maybe a place that had a good Quidditch game going on, and the majority of them also wished for some very attractive ladies to be waiting for them as well.

It had taken Marcus and Atticus quite a lot to locate the five tickets with exceptional seating for the Quidditch World Cup, including a not so legal spell on the vendor of said tickets. But it had all been worth it, a chance to see the World Cup could not be missed as unlike the wizards attending the large schools they didn't have anything of the sorts to entertain themselves with besides each other and whatever town they currently resided in provided.

And that town would change quite a bit, after all there were people who would kill thousands of innocents to so much as know a third of the secrets they knew. After all, they were the last of the two ancient families, Brody and Julia hailed from the Aurelius house, and the other three hailed from the Superbus household.

As the last descendants of these family's it was their duty to keep practicing the ancient magic of their ancestors, magic that came not from wands (even though they did use them) but from their stories, poems and songs.

All five knew that eventually the children of Julia and Atticus would go to carry on their legacy as it was unlikely that any of them would take on being a mentor.

But none of them could know that the greatest tragedy would fall upon the two houses in the history of either when they would reach their destination.

It was not until Sunday that the five wanderers arrived at the World Cup, all of them exhausted from their long trek. Right before they were about to go out in search of the site that Marcus had booked for them, a rather confused looking man stopped them.

"Um sir, you do know you have to pay, right?"

Marcus blinked once, but finally figured out that the man was a muggle and remembered that the cost of the tickets did not cover the site they booked.

"Hey, Atticus, you have the money right?" Asked Marcus calling back to his brother while not taking his eyes off the muggle.

"I thought you had it."

Marcus whirled around in bewilderment, not believing that he could of lost track of their money.

"Oh, I'm just joking Marcus." smiled Atticus while pulling out a wrinkled mass of paper bills.

After paying the man, who was still looking at them oddly as they turned to leave.

"Are you all a band or something?" he asked motioning to their strange dress.

"No."

"Well, I was just asking cause there so many odd people showing up lately, is their like some Woodstock thing going on that no one is telling me about, or some music festival because…"

"Something like that," interrupted Brody.

The man kept glancing back at the group even after he made his way back to a plastic chair with a clipboard beside it.

Clemens chuckled at their encounter with the muggle and watched as he was approached by another group, filled with lots of people with bright red hair and he also noticed a skinny boy with black hair and glasses. He seemed to look vaguely familiar. Clemens brushed that thought away, he was a stranger, but still something about that boy…

With the map that the confused muggle had given them they were able to find their camp relatively easily, especially with Brody helping them, as Brody was always the navigator no matter where they went. Atticus would sometimes joke that if Brody had been left at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean he could find his way to the nearest convenience store in a matter of hours. Although that wasn't really a stretch of the imagination for any of them considering all the places they had been.

"Who will you be rooting for?" asked Julia to Marcus while the other three conjured up a suitable tent. Marcus cocked his head to the right and thought about it, he hadn't really been able to think about things like that since he had been so caught up in simply trying to come here without being noticed. He had used aliases and disguises all the way so that no one would know who the leader of the group was.

But he decided that he would simply go along with Bulgaria, he had a few good friends in that country, not all of them wizards. He knew that almost all of the others would be rooting for Ireland, but such petty things could never bother Marcus or even Atticus Superbus.

After receiving her answer Julia returned to Atticus, "How about we give these lovely people a little pre-game show, my dear?" She asked while gazing at the crowd walking about.

She giggled as she saw a tall clumsy looking boy spill water he was carrying by trying to wave at a girl across the way.

Everybody but Brody wanted to walk around in the hope of seeing an old wizarding friend whom they made on their many travels. "There are too many oblivators and unspeakables walking about! What if they recognize us!" he said in a hushed tone even though nobody was even close to them.

"You are being ridiculous, they are not here for us, and even if they were, it's not like they could bring us in or anything," said Marcus half amused by his friend's hyper caution.

Without warning a booming voice echoed through the forest and field, all five of the group grinned as they marched towards the stadium. Their organization stood in stark contrast to the feverish run to the stadium, the lantern covered paths were filled to the brim.

But even they, the most patient learners and teachers of magic in all of Europe, could not escape the air of the moment as their steps became smaller and more excited, all of them finally making it to their seats just as the mascots started to begin their parade.

Atticus allowed himself a small smile as he saw the Veela go first, as Veela had a special place in the hearts of the five Romans. Something from an ancient story about his own house back in the days of the monarchy.

And while they danced and almost all the other males in the stadium stood up, including Brody, to have a better look at the spectacle, Atticus remained seated and bit his lip until he was afraid it would be bleed.

Atticus shook his head, "Good boy," said Julia light heartedly, patting her boyfriends shoulder while Marcus pulled Brody back down.

After the Parade had passed Atticus nudged Julia and pointed up and behind them, "The minister of Magic is sitting right up there," he said proudly at his and Marcus's efforts for these seats.

"Hey, that black haired boy next to all those red heads, does he look familiar to you?" asked Clemens out of nowhere. Now all of them looked back at the seats above them, searching for this boy.

Brody sent Clemens a side glance, as the rest all shared wondering expressions.

"Are you kidding me, Clemens, that is none other than Harry Potter, The Boy Who lived!" He said expecting all of them to know what he was talking about.

"Are we supposed to be impressed or something, because…"

"You guys never read anything from this century do you?"

Everybody shook their heads.

"You do know who Lord Voldemort is, though, right?" asked Brody quietly knowing the people around them might become suspicious.

This time they nodded, "Well, he is the man who defeated him thirteen years ago. I can't remember the exact story, so don't ask me, but he is pretty famous."

Marcus shrugged, showcasing the famous traits of the Superbus name, always proud and sometimes arrogant.

The Romans went on to watch the thrilling game, Atticus was reduced to fits of giggles as soon as the mascots went at it. Even though he rooted for the Irish in the sky, he couldn't help but feel his empathy go to the Veela firebirds.

And as the game drew to a close with Ireland taking the title, but Krum taking the snitch all five returned to their tent, more than satisfied.

But as they crawled into their respective sleeping bags Marcus made the order they all knew he would.

"Clemens, I believe it is your turn tonight."

"I thought we would skip tonight, Marcus, you know it being our time off and all." said Atticus.

"No, it is alright," said Clemens before Marcus could rebuttal.

Without out any other delay Clemens began his story. It was an ancient story, as many of his stories were. The story of how an elder couple turned to an intertwined tree together as they died, for their love for each other was too strong to be parted, even by death.

And as Clemens had his narration, the other five saw the story go on, through light and sound, the magic of his words caused shadows to grow, and just as the last word rolled off his tongue two small sprouts came up from the ground.

Everybody's eyes twinkled with a childish gleam when they saw the result of Clemens magic, as they always did.

"Good job, Clemens," whispered Julia, all the others nodded in agreement.

"Brilliant job, as always." said Marcus as he shifted in his bag.

Everybody settled down for the night, satisfied with their day.

And just before they were about to slip in to the thick comfort of their dreams, "I love you, Julia," whispered Atticus to his love.

"I love you too," she whispered back as she grasped his hand.

And the Five ancients fell asleep in together. They were always together, for an ancient could never survive for long without the comfort of his own kind.

With a great, cold gust of wind their tent toppled. And all five of them woke up just as they saw the red streaks of magic headed straight for them. Only to be intercepted by Brody's wards.

They stood up with a shock, adrenaline pumping through them as they posed for combat, their wands drawn.

They glanced cautiously to each other, as no other curses shot out of the forest.

Marcus whispered something under his breath and two lights came from the woods, marking their attackers, they all sent their own stunners or disarmers at the two lights, but both lights went out just before their spells could hit their marks.

"Must have disaperated," said Atticus, twisting around to see if they were being approached by the rear.

Shouting came from across the clearing, there were muggles held in the air by a bunch of wizards in dark cloaks. Two of them looked like children.

"We have to help them!" shouted Julia, jumping past the wards.

"NO!" the others shouted after her. Atticus sprinted forward and grabbed her by the collar of her shirt.

"We need to leave, if someone knows we are here…" He never finished his sentence as a blue hex blew him forward fifteen feet, landing him in the ground with a scream.

"Atticus!" screeched Julia.

Brody and Marcus shot spells in the direction of the enemy. Clemens rushed to Julia and Atticus.

Atticus blinked awake, opening his eyes just long enough to see to shots of green hit his brother and Brody, both falling to the ground in an eerie silence.

In a split second he realized what happened, his heart stopped, everything seemed to stop. Except everything hadn't stopped, the two attackers as if they were black smoke, swept up Julia and Clemens before disappearing.

Atticus, possessed by an inhuman strength, scrambled to the side of his brother.

"Marcusss…Marcus please," he cried, grasping his brother's hand. The ancient's leader still held the look of determination as he always did, as if he did not know that death had stopped him once and for all.

Atticus whimpered like a kicked dog between his two fallen companions.

But then stopped, and summoning what courage he had left, he summoned a fire for his companions, the humblest of funeral pyres.

It was as soon as the fire truly raged that Atticus looked up to see the mark in the sky, and in an instance knew its meaning.

"I am Atticus, The Ancient, A son of Superbus, The Final King of Rome. If this lord kills, my friends and my family than there is no place on this earth that can shelter him from me! No magic, no wards, no wall nor monster can slow me, I am an Ancient!" He shouted to the empty sky, the body of his brothers burning, no one ever knowing that two of the most noble Ancients who had ever lived had been murdered that night.` `


	2. Proffesor Superbus

Chapter Two

Professor Superbus

Atticus stood motionless, as if he were in an empty desert, the whole world moving around him as he stood still.

But he was not in a desert, in fact he stood at the platform for the Hogwarts Express, preparing to board, his mind running through the plan to do so a million times before this very moment.

Never before in his life did he ever attend a _School_.

It was almost a dirty word in his mind.

He looked down in shame as he remembered what came up to this moment. He had searched for the "Lord" Voldemort high and low, never finding a single clue to where he was. All his contacts, wizarding and otherwise, said he was dead and flinched at his name.

One of them grew so irritated that he shouted at him to go and find Harry Potter, the person who supposedly killed Voldemort in the first place.

At that Atticus was finally able to devise a plan, no doubt Voldemort would want to kill this Harry Potter for what he did to him all those years ago. And if Voldemort was going to go after Harry Potter, then he would too, and catch the Dark Lord when he did, and force him to relinquish Julia and Clemens.

He had lost everything that night, and revenge seemed to posses his passion more than his songs, or even Julia could have ever done.

He hoped that Julia was alright, he wished that at night when he woke up in a cold sweat that she would be there for him. To tell him that it had all truly been a dream.

But it wasn't, and he was now the one thing that all ancients feared most.

**Alone**.

But Atticus shook his dark thoughts away, and concentrated on the task at hand, finding Harry Potter.

He climbed into the old fashion locomotive walking through the narrow, carpeted halls, taking note of the people he saw.

A raven haired Asian girl, A white haired boy with the look of a menacing rodent who was accompanied by two much larger boys.

He must have walked through have the train before he conceded that he might have to find Harry Potter another day.

Finally he knocked on a door ready to give up and just sit down for the ride, he almost jumped for joy when he noticed the skinny black haired boy he had seen at the World Cup, coincidently enough he thought the two other people in the cabin may have also been there.

The red haired one had a little bit more meat on him than Harry, his face was full of freckles. The girl had thick, bushy hair and all three must have been no older than fifteen at the most.

The cabin itself was cluttered with their baggage including one empty owl cage and one that was covered in… an intricate bath robe perhaps?

"Um, hello there, would you all mind if I joined you?" He asked glancing at the small space between the girl and the robe covered bird cage.

"Er, alright." Said Harry, wondering who this stranger was.

But after becoming uncomfortably situated he formally introduced himself.

"I'm Atticus, by the way, Atticus Superbus. Just transferred to Hogwarts this year."

He was much more muscular and much taller than the three fourth years, his brown hair grown out to just below his ears, but he tried to make himself appear smaller to make them more comfortable around him.

"Ron Weasley."

"Hermoine Granger."

"Harry Potter." They each introduced themselves.

Atticus raised his eyebrows, "Harry Potter, as in the.."

Harry nodded. But Atticus silently cursed himself for not trying to act more surprised.

" So, Superbus, Like Targuinius Superbus, The Last King Of Rome." Asked Hermione curiously.

Atticus was surprised that she would know about his ancestor but replied, "Maybe, not really big on genealogy."

He crossed his fingers behind his back, hoping she wouldn't press the matter, and fortunately for him, she did not.

"You transferred here, mate? From where, can't really trace your accent?" Asked Ron.

"Um, Wales."

"Wales?

"What kind of wizarding school do they have in Wales?"

"A very small one." Replied Atticus.

The ride continued in this fashion, Atticus making small talk with his three new friends, Harry even insisted that he pay for his snack when the cart full of sweets passed by.

Atticus debated the whole way if he should share with Harry what he was, and what he planned to do but every time he came close he told himself he shouldn't. After all, if Harry found out Voldemort might be after him he could be placed under protection, put in a place where the Dark Lord might not come, therefore ruining his plan.

No, his true identity must remain a secret, for now, and he would have to keep a watchful eye out for anyone who would try to kill The-Boy-Who-Lived.

When they arrived at Hogwarts that night in the pouring rain Atticus allowed the other three to leave first.

Stepping into his own carriage, drawn by what he made out to be some kind of winged, horse like reptile. He could barely contain his excitement at having this opportunity, an opportunity that would end in revenge no matter if he killed Voldemort or not.

He forced himself to clarify his mind for the second time that afternoon, after all he had to sound confident for Dumbledore. Atticus made his way to the Headmasters office, directed by the letter of reply he received only four days ago.

He approached the statue of the oversized bird with an outward confidence that was not mirrored by his mind telling him to shy with uncertainty.

But the door opened for him and Atticus walked up the spiral staircase. He took a deep breath before pushing open the door to the office, that was something closer to a library.

"Hello, Mr. Superbus, I must say it is a pleasure to have you with us tonight," spoke an elderly man in rich robes and a long white beard who turned to meet his quest.

"Professor Dumbledore, I presume," said Atticus enthusiastically, offering his hand to the Headmaster.

Dumbledore nodded with a small chuckle, accepting Atticus's hand and then motioning him to have a seat at his desk.

Atticus took note of the brilliantly beautiful Phoenix to the right of him, and also remembered that only the most powerful wizards could ever have such an awesome creature as a familiar.

"I admit, Mr. Superbus, that when I received your letter twelve days ago I was most surprised. An Ancient has never offered to teach so publicly before. I did look into your background, which was much more difficult than I imagined, but I suppose a man such as your self finds secrecy to be most helpful."

Atticus nodded.

"None the less, I have been convinced that you are in fact who you say you are and that leaves me with just a few questions, if you will sir."

"They are?"

"Why would you be so willing to divulge your magic?"

"Professor, it is just time for the world to know, that's all. The remaining ancients are few and far between, and while we do not wish our knowledge public, it is much more horrifying to think that our magic will disappear forever."

"Now, Mr. Superbus, it is highly unorthodox to have a professor who would also have to be a student. You are more than proficient in all areas except transfiguration. I am assuming this is due to your specialization, but it is necessary for teachers to be proficient in all these subjects. Perhaps Professor McGonagall can tutor you in the subject?"

Atticus bit his tongue, he knew it may come to this but a surge of pride kept him from outright saying that he needed a formal education while teaching a class himself. But it was necessary and that was enough for him to swallow his considerable pride and accept Dumbledores agreement.

"Well then, welcome to Hogwarts Professor Superbus." Declared Dumbledore after hearing Atticus's acceptance.

"But first," continued Dumbledore taking up a dirty, worn hat from a shell, "If you are to be a student we must sort you into the house you will be in, although you will not use the student dormitories and all the other things. Simply put this hat upon your head and we can move on."

Atticus raised an eyebrow at the method, but quickly put on the hat, not wanting to waste any time.

The Sorting Hat made a satisfied grin just before announcing the years first sort.

"GRYFFANDOR!"

Atticus jumped a little in his chair when he heard the booming voice from the hat, but regained himself quickly and handed the hat back to the Headmaster.

"That settles that, Professor." Said Dumbledore, "You may go ahead down to the main hall and their should be an extra seat waiting for you among the other teachers."

Atticus made a cheerful smile that his plan had begun to work and went to do just as Dumbledore instructed.

Once Atticus was out of the room, though, Dumbledore sent a questioning look to the hat.

"He's a proud one he is, very, very proud. Something sad in him too. But no, he doesn't work for Voldemort, I think he may have had just as many bad thoughts about Voldemort as young mister Longbottom did when he first came in." Replied the hat on its former wearer.

Dumbledore gave a thoughtful look, but then grabbed the hat as he himself went to attend the feast.

A/N: Reviews welcome.


	3. Pandora's Box

Chapter Three

Pandora's Box

The large empty classroom seemed almost depressing to it's sole occupant. But not because of its dark and gloom, or the smell of rot mingling with crushed chalk. No, the room, that could comfortably seat fifty people was simply too small for Atticus, who had traveled the globe and made the whole world his bedroom, to be confined to such a space was… suffocating.

But that didn't matter, it was doable.

Atticus shifted his mind off his teaching quarters and thought back to the feast he had just attended. He had made sure to catch the look of utter surprise of Potter and his friends when Dumbledore announced who he was. That was _tooo_ good.

Although, Dumbledore hadn't mentioned to him anything about the Triwizard tournament, not that he knew much about Triwizard tournaments to begin with.

And that Professor Moody character looked rather intriguing. There seemed to be a scar on his face for every time he had his hair cut.

But eventually the memory of the evening bored him, and Atticus grabbed his bag and plopped it on the nearest desk, a thick could of dust flying off as he did.

He had raided quite a bit of décor off the Safe houses the Ancients would use in bad times to fill the classroom, truth be told he did more to feel at home than for the education of his students.

He brought out one piece of pottery and artifact after another, the paintings on all of them walked around acting out scenes of hunting, cooking and fighting. He looked with a particular fondness at a vase depicting the siege of Troy, a gift that Marcus had given him for his birthday, but it wasn't long before that pleasant memory turned bitter with the emptiness in his heart returning.

A feeling that became worse when he drew out a not so old photograph of his family. It was taken when his father was still alive, his father still had a playful gleam in his eye that stood in constant contrast with Marcus's seriousness. His eyes ran across Clemens who shined with the same family pride that he did, something Clemens did so rarely as he was always wary of what could happen next. Brody looked out right goofy leaning back with his hands in his pockets and a huge grin on his face. Finally he saw Julia, and for her alone he let out a desperate sigh.

"Oh, Julia. I'll find you, I promise. And you too Clemens, I am trying so hard, but it isn't easy. Just remember that I will find you, alright," he whispered to the wrinkled photograph, as if his stolen family could hear him.

A tear rolled down the Proud Ancient's face, and then another.

Atticus broke down sobbing on the desk, allowing himself to drift asleep in his misery.

"Ughh." groaned Atticus as he picked himself off the dusty desk the next morning. He quickly remembered what caused his lingering sadness and felt he should hit his head back against the desk, but with a jolt upright he remembered that he needed to be ready for the class today

In a whirl wind of motion he put everything a place that would make the room presentable, and ran through his first lesson plan over and over again before allowing himself to put a cleaning charm on himself, change clothes then go down to breakfast

Instead of putting on his usual T-shirt and jeans he took out black dress paints, a blue collared shirt and a plaid jacket. He almost grabbed the matching red bow tie but quickly thought against it. Something in his bag caught his attention just before he was about to leave. He smiled and took out his grandfather's pipe and gnawed at the end for a little bit, but just like the tie he threw it back down after realizing who ridicules he must have looked.

Even though he had eaten more than his fill yesterday he dug into his plate of sausage and eggs with a renewed vigor. But he hesitated before picking up his glass of pumpkin juice. After living with muggles for most of his life, eating their food and living a very muggle lifestyle he didn't know if he would like this pumpkin juice as he had always drunken water. He debated the issue for a moment but when he looked back down he found his glass refilled with water.

Atticus made a satisfied smile, it seemed that the change of lifestyle would not be to bad after all.

"Something wrong Professor?" Asked a very gruff voice to his right.

Atticus glanced at the very large and very harry man he had seen on the train.

"No, not at all, Professor…"

"Hagrid, jest call me Hagrid."

"In that case just call me Atticus, Hagrid."

"Well pleesur to met ur, Ateacus."

Atticus smiled, and looked to his right at Moody who sent him a look that said "I think you murdered some one".

"What exactly do you teach?" Asked Moody suspiciously.

"Um, I'm teaching a new class on Classical Magic, I'm an Ancient you see, just thought people should remember the old ways that's all."

For a moment Atticus thought he saw a flash of what he could have been intrigue on the man's scared face.

"The old ways; pureblood customs?"

Atticus raised his eyebrows, "No, far, far older than all that hiccup in history which is the last millennium. I am talking about Ancient Rome, Greece, Asia Minor, and Egypt. I'll be teaching about the very inception of intelligent magic for the human race."

The defense teacher seemed to lose interest at that point. But Atticus would not have his subject brushed off so easily.

"Now, my Dear Professor I will not just be teaching history. There are forms of magic which have all been lost with the erosion that time has brought. And I will be the one who will restore these arts back to their former glory." Continued Atticus grandly.

It looked like Moody was going to respond to Atticus's grandeur, but Atticus stood up to leave saying he had to be ready for his first class.

He looked up once to admire the cloudy ceiling before taking off with a certain determination that would have made his brother proud.

Atticus watched as the students milled into his class, watching keenly to see if Harry had this class.

All the students were excited for their new class (there hadn't been a knew class added to the school in over sixty years), although almost every body did have a different reason for being excited, Malfoy as well as the majority of Slytherins had made the same mistake Moody had in thinking that the class was about pureblood customs, Pavarti and Lavender who were both amateur poets and writers had wanted to know more about that portion of the class, the greater majority of the class simply wanted to take a more interesting class than one that was taught by a ghost with a monotone, and the last group of people in attendance was a sum of about nine fifth year girls who wanted to take a look at Hogwarts new and most attractive teacher.

Atticus smiled inwardly as he saw Harry and Ron sit down on a desk no more than ten feet away from him.

"Alight, Now if any body doesn't know, My name is Atticus Superbus and I will be teaching the class about Classical Magic. But before I do will everybody please tell me your names first."

He went down each row, the group of fan girls giggled when he got to them. Atticus only blinked in reply.

When he was finally done he went back to his desk, and observed the group of fifty students silently, his moment without sound immediately gathered the attention of the masses.

"What do you know of the creation of magic?"

The students looked to each other confused by the professor's question.

None of them had ever heard of such a thing; magic was constant, perpetual and eternal, it had no beginning… didn't it?

"Do any of you know about the legend of Pandora's box?" Asked Atticus, now taking out a very large jug with the moving pictures, one that looked older than all the others.

Slowly a little third year raised his hand: Colin Creevery.

"The story about a box that held all the bad things in the world?"

Atticus allowed himself a chuckle.

"That version of the story was created in a time when the approval rating of us wizards was down considerably. No, _that_ version is oversimplified too often. The original myth is old, so old that it seems that only us ancients know the true version now. Almost ten thousand years ago, when human civilization was only just budding from its humble beginnings, there was a beautiful women, Pandora. As that is how most good stories start, with a beautiful women.

"This women was so beautiful that she would receive gifts from all the men in her region. And one day she found a new gift on her doorstep, one that was different from all the others. It was a box, a simple brown wooden box. Now, any other women would have considered this gift to be inferior to the gifts of live stock and pretty rocks, but this women was a curios one. She took in the box and she opened it."

He paused to see all the students watching attentively, watching the very story Atticus spoke of being played out on the vase behind him.

"Inside that box, my friends, were the most amazing things that could ever be imagined, the first Veela, the first Dragon, the first phoenix… all the magical creatures we know so well today, creatures the natural world would have never allowed to be conceived.

"And it seemed the sender of the box had all but a complete lack of foresight, for such creatures could destroy the human race in an instance. But then came the boxes final gift, and some would say the most powerful of all things that burst forth. Something left the box and embedded itself into the very soul, into the very makeup of all living things. This thing could change the world around it in magnificent ways if its host was only aware of its presence. Bursting forth from the tiny wooden box was Magic!

"And while this women marveled in her gifts, she closed the box, and waited for her suitor who would surely arrive after giving her the gift. But he never did, and no one ever knew who the creator of such magnificence could have been."

Atticus turned around to see the final scene of the Amphora, a women sitting alone.

"But then, class, as humanity spread to all the continents, as well as these new magical creatures certain things became evident. The simple creatures could not perform magic unless it was a complete part of their instincts, but the smarter ones, such as humans, found out how to control their magic. Native American elders found divination and ways to control the weather, the Orients practiced magical potions, but it was the Egyptians who made the discovery in magic that is now the basis for all things you do here at Hogwarts. The Egyptians, you see, created the first wand!"

The students began to make surprised whispers to each other at the Ancient's knowledge.

"But I don't think I need to teach you about that, I am here to teach you about the Roman way. Before the Egyptians brought their techniques across the Mediterranean, the Romans had a very unique way of spell casting. The magician would have to compose a song, or a story, of perhaps a poem. The result while not as quick as wand casting, had the ability of being much more powerful.

"However there are drawbacks to this form of magic, it can leave the weaver of the spell with much less energy than a normal spell, as well as being difficult to compose in the first place. You see you must understand what you are saying on the most emotional level possible, well, that is how you start out any way. It should become easier as you go along though. Also most of these spells are in Latin, but that shouldn't be a problem," said Atticus dismissively

He waited until the students had their attention again before he asked if any one had any questions.

"Yeah, I thought this class was about pureblood customs." Said Malfoy rudely.

Atticus sent him a glare, "The _Ancient_ part in your precious pureblood's ancient and noble houses is a complete joke, and no, I will not be teaching about that. This about the true ancients who lived two and three thousand years ago."

But Malfoy was not about to let this amateur professor have the last word, "What use is this magic any way, the wands became popular for a reason."

This time Atticus went over to Malfoy's desk and looked him maliciously in the eye, "Wands were used because they were easy, but tell me this, if you were to destroy a building, I don't know, the size of Hogwarts, how would you do it."

Malfoy shrunk back a little, unable to find a good answer.

"Precisely, my dear pupil, things that can not be accomplished with a single wand casted spell, can be done with the ancient's magic."

"But enough of that, we should get back to the lesson." Said Atticus, turning back to his desk.

Atticus subbed his hands together, as if brushing off his encounter with Malfoy, "Anybody want an example?"

The class with the exception of the Slytherins gave a murmur of consent.

Atticus looked up thoughtfully before choosing a song that he liked.

But he did not chose a song, instead he thought back to a poem that Marcus had taught, a small little poem about the funeral of a brother, when it was done he channeled all the built energy into a simple task.

He allowed himself a faint smile as the robes of all the students turned into those of a mourner. And just before there next class no less, but he told them it would wear off soon.


	4. Transfiguration

Chapter Four

Transfiguration

Atticus walked back into his classroom after the day's dinner, only slightly energized from the meal as his first day of teaching was pretty tiring, so was the ancient spells he composed, but his tutoring with McGonagall was less than half an hour away.

He had never really enjoyed transfiguration as a subject, and it was never something the Ancient's or his family was ever very good at. They all knew the basics; as that was required to perform some of the Ancient spells.

But just wand casting transfiguration… this was not going to be easy

He paced around his empty classroom five times before taking his wand out slowly and pointing it at the muggle ball point pen on his desk.

He thought back and after searching his mind for a full minute he found the proper spell and in a flash the pen turned into a rather sickly looking earth worm.

Atticus grimaced and tried to turn it back, mostly succeeding but the pen was still very slimy. He hesitated a little before putting his wand into his pocket and headed off to McGonagall's classroom.

"Professor McGonagall, Salve!" Said Atticus using the greeting of his first language.

"Salve to you Mr. Superbus," replied the older women in her Scottish accent.

Atticus noticed some random objects on the desk, but it was not until he looked back at the teacher that he noticed her unusual expression.

"Mr. Superbus, where is your familiar?"

Atticus blushed with mild embarrassment, "I don't have any."

McGonagall sighed, "Well, you would do well to have one; we will have to practice on these for now."

Atticus took a closer look at the objects; a textbook, a feather, a cup and a porcupine.

"What exactly do you know of Transfiguration, Mr. Superbus?"

He shrugged, "The Basics."

As it turned out he knew less about Transfiguration that he thought, the minutes of firing failed spells stretched unto hours. By the end of the class he had maybe achieved a fourth years level of education, and was utterly exhausted by both the teaching and the learning.

But just before he was sure he was going to be dismissed his tutor asked him another question.

"Now, Mr. Superbus I have heard a little bit about this supposed Ancient magic of yours, if you could I would love a demonstration."

In fact, Atticus did not have the magical energy to lift a pillow, but he had already underperformed enough that evening and was not about to refuse a chance to prove himself.

He cleared his throat, but for some reason he couldn't think of any good songs for him, so he composed one on the spot and even adding a tune he had never heard before.

He whispered a few lines, and thought about his stolen family.

It was not his best creation, but the Latin kept was still understandable by all, and his magic had already worked.

The objects which had become incredibly deformed during his practice were now all back to their original forms, because his Ancient magic much more natural to him than his Professor's magic.

McGonagall was certainly impressed by his show, and more importantly she did not see his dazed and sleepy expression before he could cover it up.

"I think I will retire now." Said Atticus quietly, as he started making his exit.

The very next day Atticus took an energy giving potion before going down to breakfast. He cast a watchful eye to Harry. Ever since his arrival he had been watching him closely and he still wasn't sure what to make of the fourteen year old boy.

He knew that more than one girl had looked at him with a crush in their eyes, but he didn't seem to think so highly of himself, didn't draw attention to himself, and, from what he could see so far, was no brilliant magician either.

Harry saw the young Professor's gaze at him, a gaze that quickly shifted when he noticed it.

"Hey, Ron," Harry nudged his red haired friend.

"Wut?" He asked through a mouthful of buttered toast.

Hermoine sent Ron an aggravated glance at his poor manners.

"See Atticus over there, he was staring over at me."

Hermoine sent a suspicious glance to the teachers table, "NO, don't look." said Harry.

"It is probably nothing," said Ron having swallowed.

"But, that Professor is an odd one, isn't he. Didn't even tell us he was a Professor when we were on the train," commented Hermoine.

Ron shrugged.

The rest of the day went along just as everybody expected. Atticus' lesson had everybody say a famous poem by Ovid and see who could perform. Harry and Ron did alright, Pavarti and Lavender did better, and some of the kids from Slytherin had their magic backfire- a fact that Atticus was all too keen to chuckle at.

But at dinner Atticus ignored Moody's usual paranoid comments and turned to Hagrid.

"Hey Hagrid, I was wondering, because you teach magical creatures and all if you could get my a familiar, a Spartan Dog, if you could, I will pay for everything."

Hagrid pondered the request for a moment.

"I think I might be able to get your one," He replied, Atticus sat back satisfied with his answer.

He looked back to Harry Potter, wondering why Voldemort had not tried to kill him yet, it seemed like it would be just too easy.

A/N: Reviews Welcomed, oh and for those of you who saw Fleur as a Character don't worry I will be bringing her in soon.


	5. A Familiar Veela

Chapter Five

A Familiar Veela

The month of September went relatively quickly for Atticus, who was beginning to thoroughly enjoy his job of being the educator. Between history lessons he would teach ancient poetry so they could learn how to cast an Ancient Spell.

For the first few days he had slept in his office until he figured out that there was another key for the door that when used would lead to his living quarters.

It was just yesterday that Hagrid had finally been able to do good on his word and bring to the young teacher his Spartan dog. Who would shy away from his new owner every time he came close, Atticus couldn't help from laughing at the cowardly hunting dog.

"I think I'll call you Pliny, how do you like that, hmm?" he said happily, petting his Pliny's short brown coat. Overall, the dog may have been almost as big as his owner but that didn't deter Atticus who always wanted a dog.

Just as he put the finishing touches on his Cave Canem (Beware of the Dog) mosaic in his room, he realized that he would have to go out to the front of the castle for the arrival of the two schools in two minutes.

"Sorry Pliny, just…um…stay!" Ordered Atticus as he started off for the entrance.

He sprinted down the halls and was able to make it to the rest of the teachers just as a huge robin blue carriage landed. He heard the students gasp just as a woman tall who must have been ten feet tall exited the carriage. She wore black satin, opals, and talked with a deep voice, at least that is what Atticus noticed about her before he turned back to watch the Beauxbatons students mill out of their oversized carriages.

Atticus blinked as he thought he recognized one of the girls with silky white hair and her skin… it was like moonlight…. A Veela! He raised his eye brows in surprise and wondered why he would recognize her, someone from a photograph perhaps?

He cleared his head as the girl put a muffler around her face and shivered because of the cold.

Atticus didn't see much from Durmstrang, except for the Quidditch player from the world cup, he didn't like the expression that their Headmaster gave Dumbledore. He had heard that Durmstrang made an emphasis on the defense against the dark arts, or rather the dark arts. Atticus himself had been taught since the age of four how to defend himself, after all he was an Ancient, and Ancients would always have someone who wanted them dead.

He looked down grimly as he acknowledged a fact in his mind that had lingered for far too long, teaching here at Hogwarts was nothing if not suicidal with all the people who wanted to kill him, not that he cared much about that anymore.

He shook his head clear one more time and followed the Students milling into the castle, he looked up lost in thought about the tournament, and didn't notice until he was pushed up against a wall that someone had moved him.

Atticus looked down at the same white-blond haired girl from earlier, "Marcus!" she asked hopefully, grasping his hands in hers. Atticus made a confused blink… "Marcus, why would she….oooh," he thought to himself as he realized where he had seen her before, he had seen her in a photograph Marcus showed to him after he and Brody made a trip to France while Atticus and the others were in Naples.

"No, not Marcus," Said Atticus pushing her hands away, "I'm his brother Atticus."

She made a disappointed frown.

"Oh, well tell him I'm here." She said; her hopeful smile returning as she squeezed back into the mass of Hogwarts students to go to the main hall.

Atticus sighed; he didn't want to deal with people from his past here, or his brother's past for that matter.

This girl, he thought Marcus said her name was Fleur, and they had a _**very**_ good time in Paris together. Unfortunately, he couldn't remember what else he said about her.

On his way into the Hall he now considered the Veela, and whether or not he should stay away from her.

"Well, I might as well have a little bit of fun in the time of have left," he thought half jokingly to himself, and he felt a tiny sputter of feeling for her that came from the same place as his nationalistic pride, as Veela would always have a special place in the hearts of the Roman countrymen.

Atticus smiled politely for the other Headmasters and the Ministry officials that came to his table.

He listened closely, even though he pretended not to, about the conversation Dumbledore was having with his fellow Headmasters, after all it pertained to him.

" 'is A'icus, you ave ere, you ay, he ez en Anchient?" Asked Madam Maxine.

"Yes, Madam, we are very fortunate to have him here teaching with us, I have heard that most of the students are very intrigued by our new professor's edification." Replied Dumbledore.

"You will be having Alastair Moody as your defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" asked Karkoff, bending over to Dumbledore.

"Yes, he is, as a former Auror he is most qualified for the position," said Dumbledore with an air of finality, Atticus guessed that was a close as Dumbledore would ever come to harshness in a civil conversation.

"But this Atticus of yours, naturally our students have never had the opportunity to be taught be an ancient, perhaps in the spirit of international cooperation our students may also attend his class?" proposed Karkoff, a plan that was quickly given Madam Maxine's support.

"If Professor Superbus has no reservations than I believe that to be a splendid idea," Dumbledore looked over to Atticus with something of a twinkle in his eye.

"I would love to teach more students about the Ancient's way, and I think I have enough room in to teach everybody at once," Atticus gave his thoughts on the matter without looking up from his plate of French cuisine.

The three headmasters continued their conversation, and Atticus could have sworn that Moody's "Mad Eye" swiveled to them more than once.

Atticus turned his attention to the student body before him, and after brushing his eyes over Harry and his friends, then to Victor Krum, and finally to Fleur. And it was then he remembered everything that his brother told him about her, and why he liked her so much.

"She is probably one of the most beautiful girls I have ever met, but then she is so much more than that. She works so hard, willing to prove that she is more than just a Veela, even though she's proud of that fact. Proud like us, Atticus, ah… she is just amazing, shame you couldn't have met her…." The rest drifted off into the depths of Atticus's mind. Marcus very rarely broke his seriousness and he did so even less to talk about a girl.

But now Atticus looked down at her, ignoring his brother's fondness of her, the way she laughed during Dumbledore's speech and how she carried herself. Atticus frowned as he found a trait in her that he knew all too well.

Arrogance.

Atticus didn't pay attention much while Dumbledore finished and brought the Goblet of Fire out, however he did realize as Dumbledore had enrolled him in the school he was eligible to compete, that gave him an amused grunt. The last thing he needed was a cutthroat competition in his life.

But then a new idea gave him pause, the whole reason why he was here was to see if Voldemort would go after Harry, and this competition would probably make the assassin's job ten times easier. As soon as Atticus made it back to his room that night and fed Pliny he wrote down all the names of the new people, a list that included the headmasters, the foreign students, the ministry officials and Moody.

Atticus sighed when he realized that if someone else were to make a similar list he would be at the top of it.

A/N: Reviews welcomed.


	6. A Demonstration

Chapter 6

A Demonstration

"Well, Hello class!" said Atticus brightly, addressing his new students. As it turned out there was almost enough room for everybody, but some of the people not from Hogwarts were left standing, including Fleur, who leaned up against the stone wall. Atticus observed silently as Ron made a clumsy effort of chivalry, offering Fleur his seat, which she quickly refused with something of a sneer.

"Alright, while it will be a little tedious I want to go back over some of the things we learned the first day for the new peoples in our midst," and Atticus went off retelling the story of Pandora's box to the class, and from watching he could tell that the students from Durmstrang were much less engaged than their French colleges. However he was surprised when he was interrupted by Fleur when he came to the part about the first Veela.

"Are ewe elling me zet my race aim out of e' box sent ez gift to win over a 'oman?" Asked Fleur disapprovingly.

At that Atticus chuckled, "Now Fleur, settle down. It is just a story."

"Et ez untrue?"

"Maybe, I wasn't there when it happened, but before you dismiss it as nonsense consider this, to most Wizards an Ancient is a myth, something to be forgotten, or perhaps an old wives tale of a strange man that came into town, a face in a faded photograph, a whisper on the wind. To most people I am just a story, but fortunately for me stories can be much more real than we think they are. Oh, And trust me Fleur, I have several ancestors that had much lesser beginnings than that one." Replied the Teacher smartly before returning to his class.

He continued his story to the history of magic; when he was done and had begun describing the abilities of the Ancient's magic, its usefulness to create powerful magical objects, make incredibly large buildings easier, healing, and battling.

And this time it was one of the Dumrstrang students who interrupted Atticus.

"But how could you use it in battling if it takes so long to use?" He asked.

Atticus made a smile that would have been equal to that of a child's on Christmas day. "I think a demonstration is in order! Everybody, wands out!" Ordered the elated Professor, who placed his own wand on his desk, and held his empty hands up so everyone could see.

"Now when I give the word I want everybody to fire the most powerful legal curses you know at me, and as many as you can," he continued as he jumped on top of the desk.

"As everybody can plainly see I will not be using a wand." Most of the class from Hogwarts looked to each other nervously, Fleur and her classmates gave their teacher a look that said, "REALLY?", and the Durmstrang students looked as excited as the professor.

Atticus began his chant with a whisper.

Oh, my dearest Apius

Remember that long day

Remember when they marched to Rome

But first they marched to you

Atticus shouted "NOW!" to the students, who fired off a barrage of different colored spells at the proud teacher, who swept his hand in front of him, catching all the curses and moved them about with his hands as if conducting an orchestra.

Remember when you stood strong

And the tired army

Lead by the Darkest Lord

Met the forgotten soldier

But it was not your fate to be so great

And the dark lord who felt your blow

Did not fall on your tall hill

Remember Apius that you went on

Remember that you met me

Oh, My dearest Apius, live with me today

And forget about dying yesterday

"HAHAAAAHAHA!" Laughed Atticus heartily, before pushing the growing ball of pure energy he took from the spells forward, unleashing an earsplitting explosion, all the students fell back and the solid wood door behind them flew straight off its hinges.

Atticus was still elated by the excitement of his "demonstration" when McGonagall and Flitwick came running into the classroom.

"What? What happened here?" exclaimed McGonagall as she saw the fallen students.

"WHAT!" Shouted Malfoy, his and everyone else's ears ringing.

"Oh nothing Professor, nothing but a small demonstration, I assure you that everything and everybody is quite alright." Replied Atticus over the mass of fifty groaning students.

Flitwick raised a tiny eyebrow as Pliny whimpered into the room from Atticus's office.

Atticus eventually yielded to his fellow professors and sent everybody down to the hospital wing, with a brief apology.

"That was the best fun I've had in months!" said Atticus to Pliny after everyone had left.

A/N: Still want some reviews, as usual. Pleeease.


	7. An Animagus Mishap

Chapter Seven

An Animagus Mishap

Atticus smiled brightly as he sat at the teachers table, the wooden Goblet of Fire burning just as brightly. He and Moody had spoken briefly about the Goblet, how it whoever had their name chosen was magically bonded to go in competition. Atticus had seen Fleur enter herself earlier that day, he hoped she wasn't picked, many people had died in the past, and no matter his judgment of her he didn't want to see her getting hurt.

Truth be told Atticus was not very excited about this whole Triwizard tournament thing. He had been watching Harry very closely, hoping that someone would try something, because if they did then he would finally have a link to this Lord Voldemort. And as soon as he found the dark lord his job teaching at Hogwarts would be over.

He waited anxiously for Dumbledore to announce the champions, simply pushing around the food on his plate, refusing to eat. But finally it was time, Dumbledore said a few words that Atticus took little note of and dimmed the lights.

He watched as the first name left the cup: Victor Krum, then the second: Fleur Delacour, he hoped that she would be alright. And the third name: Cedric Diggory.

Atticus clapped politely for each of the champions, he went into deep thought about what the first challenge could be just when he heard the name of the fourth champion.

"Harry Potter."

The silence of the hall was nothing like the shock inside the proud Ancient's mind, and it took until Harry stood up for him to realize the true implications of what just happened.

"I failed," he whispered to himself. THIS was the attempt he had been waiting for; sending a fourth year into a competition like this one was tantamount to a death sentence.

He had lost; the dark lord's servant had done their part right under his nose… no, no, no, whoever did this would have only been able to do it in the last twenty four hours. Which meant they were probably still here, and if he could only find out who…

He watched Moody and Dumbledore get up to enter the other room, and he couldn't resist but to follow them. He stood motionless, observing Dumbledore grill Harry on if he had an older student submit his name, also catching Fleur's sneer at the younger champion, but it was when Moody interrupted the Headmasters that caught his attention.

"Of course Moody would suspect that this was an attempt on Harry's life, he's paranoid. But perhaps the ex-auror could be useful in finding the assassin." Thought Atticus to himself as it all unfolded.

He carefully watched Harry's reaction, it seemed he was stunned by everything that was going on. Atticus felt a twinge of sympathy for the young black haired boy. "You can't simply allow him to die, can you?" He debated to himself. "No you should concentrate on finding the person who did this, remember Julia…"

"Julia wouldn't allow him to die." He whispered just as everybody was dismissed.

His mind turned over and over the possibilities, even taking into consideration that he might not be able to help Harry, or that he might be able to hold his own in competition.

He didn't hear the creak of the floor boards, being in such deep thought, or even Pliny's whimper, or even hear the word Stupefy, until it was too late.

Atticus blinked himself awake, suddenly finding himself aware of a bitter after taste in his mouth. He ran through what happened… had he really just been captured that easily?

But as his eyes ran over the bookshelf's and finally over the old man sitting in front of him he realized where he was. The Headmaster's Office.

"What is your name?" Asked Dumbledore.

Atticus surprised himself as he said "Atticus David Superbus," instead of something smart. The bitter taste…he was under the influence of Veritas Serum! They suspected him!

"Did you place Harry's name in the Goblet of fire?"

"No."

"Do you know who did?" The headmaster continued calmly.

"No."

"You see Albus?" Spoke a relieved looking McGonagall behind him.

Dumbledore held up his hand, "What is your reason for coming to Hogwarts?"

"I…I came to see if anybody would make an attempt to kill Harry Potter."

"Why?"

"At the World Cup, when the dark mark was cast, two people attacked me and five other Ancients. They succeeded in killing my brother Marcus and my friend Brody, and then they disaperated…taking my Brother Clemens and my girlfriend Julia. It seemed that the attackers were servants of Voldemort, and if he were to return than he would most certainly be after Harry Potter. If I can find one of the people who killed my family then they can lead me back to Voldemort, and maybe back to Clemens and Julia."

Dumbledore and McGonagall were silent for a little bit.

"Professor Superbus, you have permission to return to your quarters." Says the Headmaster. The potion is beginning to wear off, but all the ashamed Ancient wants to do is go back.

It was two days after Atticus had been under the Veritas Serum, the first day he had been grateful for the fact he hadn't been sacked, but then he realized that Dumbledore wouldn't fire him because he felt sorry for him. And as a Superbus he didn't like it when people took pity on him, but now he went back to McGonagall's classroom for his lesson.

The Ancient had made great strides in his learning, finally able to master the spells they had been working on. And today he had been promised by his teacher a new and much more interesting lesson. He had even been asked to leave Pliny back in his office, which was something that Pliny would no doubt be grateful of. The first day Atticus brought him in McGonagall had asked him to turn him into a barrel, something that didn't turn out to well for the cowardly dog.

But as Atticus walked in today he didn't see the professor, all he could see was a tabby cat. A cat that Atticus looked at intently after he looked around once for his tutor. But after a moment he felt a surge of a ridicules feeling go through him and he looked back at the door to see if she was coming.

When he looked back for the cat he almost jumped back as he found his teacher.

"Well good afternoon Mr. Superbus.

"Are you familiar with the concept of an Animagus?" She asked, and Atticus blinked; deciding to ignore her act of deception, but inwardly grateful that she hadn't brought up his interrogation.

"Um, not really Professor."

"An Animagus is a person who can, at will, turn themselves into a creature."

"How exactly would you do something like that?" Asked Atticus instantly intrigued.

"To begin with you must cast a charm on yourself to turn yourself into your animal, the animal is not chosen, but when you become that particular animal you will soon realize that it couldn't have been any other creature.

"But no matter about that, I doubt you would want to become an animagus as all of them must be registered by the ministry."

"What if you're an American citizen?"

"You're an American Citizen?"

"Er, something of like dual citizenship, but that doesn't matter does it?"

McGonagall shook her head, confirming his doubts.

"But what is the charm anyway?"

"Animagi Vero," Atticus made sure to keep that in his mind, while McGonagall continued, turning the subject to Switching Spells.

When Professor Superbus was finally able to make it back to his office that night he couldn't wait try it out. He almost forgot that McGonagall had said that using the Charm would be just the start of becoming an Animagus.

"Animagi Vero," whispered Atticus pointing his wand at himself.

He blinked once, but when he opened his eyes he realized he was much shorter that he was before, although that was all he was able to notice before he grew back to his original height, and felt his throat gag.

"Caghcaca ," He choked and coughed something out onto his desk. He breathed heavily, relieved to be breathing.

Atticus finally opened his eyes and saw what he was choking on, little white feathers. He was about to wipe them off when Pliny barked and ran into a corner, apparently undisturbed by his owner turning into an animal but terrified by a new person entering the office.

Atticus was able to brush off the feathers as quickly as possible before he realized Fleur had paid him a visit.

"Fleur! To what do I owe this pleasure?"

The Veela sent a charming smile at the professor as she put a hand on his desk, "Atticus, I ez oping that ewe ave 'ad word from 'or brother."

Atticus blinked and in an instance all his excitement from his little experiment flew away and was replaced by a sorrowful cloud over him.

He took a deep breath.

"Fleur, I was hoping you wouldn't ask that."

"Why?" She asked only beginning to understand why he was acting that way.

"Marcus is dead."

Fleur's eyes widened in shock, she couldn't say anything.

"He was murdered by a stranger; there are always people who will want to kill my kind. That was something we both knew all too well."

Atticus sighed as he saw a tear roll down the beautiful girl's face.

"I know that you two were fond of each other, and… I suppose it is up to me to say sorry…"

"When?"

"About two months ago."

"Ewe do not rye 'or him?" She asked.

"I have shed more than my share of tears already." Replied Atticus quietly, choosing not to take offense about what she said.

"It's why I'm here; there aren't as many Ancients as there once was. And I refuse to allow the old was to simply be forgotten.

"Marcus was the best of us, the strongest and the smartest. He didn't deserve to die…he didn't…" The Veela now watched as a tiny tear ran down the Ancient's face, as I turned out he hadn't used up all his tears quite yet.

A/N: I could always do with some more reviews if you can. But no, I'll throw you a bone; who enjoys the haphazard story of Atticus, and if you do what is it you like most, perhaps his character?


	8. Garum

Chapter Eight

Garum

The School was ecstatic with the first task looming, and from the unexpected picking of a Second Hogwarts champion. Although, as Atticus began to notice, not everybody was too excited about that second detail. Well, more like only the Gryffindors were happy and everybody seemed to believe that Harry had placed his name into the Goblet, something that not only bothered Harry, but also Atticus.

Apparently everybody was too caught up in the competition to see the obvious problem with a fourth year going into these tasks.

Today he didn't have Harry in his class, but he did have Hermoine. Atticus didn't take much note of her before, but her constant questions and answers would catch his attention. But today he noticed the abundance of "Potter Stinks" badges in his classroom.

He eyed the crowd of students wearily before making his stern declaration, "Now everybody, I don't like this negative attitude going around the school about some of the Triwizard Champions, and I will have none of it in my class, if you would please put away those badges of yours."

It looked like one of the Slytherins was about to protest but a quick glare from Atticus shut him up.

Professor Superbus starting talking about some ancient Roman customs, but it was when he came to the part about Roman slaves that Ms. Granger interrupted.

"The Romans had slaves?"

Atticus blinked, he assumed that particular fact was common knowledge.

"Yes, not a fact I am proud of, but yes."

"So like house elves now?"

Atticus was not very familiar with house elves, "Um, sort of, you see it wasn't like slavery today or in recent centuries. All slaves were either prisoners of war of their descendants and it was considered merciful to keep them as slaves because the alternative was to kill them, it was not based on race. While if you were a slave working in a mine or other hard labor your life was something close to hell on earth, but if you were a domestic slave you had it pretty good in the Roman empire."

"So they felt _okay_ about it."

"Well some people weren't, probably the more educated, and there were some movements towards slave reform because there were simply too many and revolts were becoming immanent. Ever heard of Spartacus?"

It looked like Hermoine was going to ask something else but Atticus stopped her, "We have to continue the lesson now."

He turned the topic to the ancient laws and the Twelve Tables.

After the class Atticus turned his thoughts to a more trivial matter, he had not had any Garum to go with his food in months, and it was something that the House Elves just could not make. There was a particular ingredient that maybe the Potions Teacher had.

He quickly decided that he would have just enough time to make it to the dungeons and back before his next class.

But his way to the dungeons was not as smooth as he had hoped and found himself blocked by a bunch of students, he was about to shout at them to move when they did any way. He was just able to jump out of the way when a curse flew past him and hit a rather large and pudgy looking student standing beside him.

"WHAT WAS THAT!" Shouted The Professor as he drew his wand, but calmed down slightly as he found the two who were fighting, Harry and Malfoy.

Malfoy was just about to send the teacher an excuse before he cut him off, "You can't just launch curses in a crowded hallway! Are you insane? Ten points from both your houses!"

Malfoy glared at him, but Harry looked down slightly ashamed, Atticus noticed a Girl crying behind Harry, it was Hermoine and something white was showing from under her hands covering her face. He realized that a curse must have hit her too; he quickly sent her and the other kid down to the Hospital wing.

Just as he did Professor Snape entered the hall, "What is the meaning of this?" He asked suspiciously.

"Oh nothing Professor, these two had something of a dispute and fired off a few curses, I already have it taken care of."

"What are you doing here, Professor Superbus?" Asked Snape motioning for his students to go into his classroom.

"Actually I came to talk to you about a certain potion ingredient," Atticus began to describe the Mediterranean spice for his father's special recipe.

Snape told him to go look on the third shelf of his potions supply cabinet.

He left quickly, satisfied with his prize but was certain that he would have to talk to Harry soon, before things began to go too far downhill.

A/N: Not exactly my best work, pretty poor on my part actually, but I promise I will pick it up and if you could do your part too and review what I've got.


	9. The Masters of the Skies

Chapter nine

The Masters of the Skies

It was Sunday and Atticus was happy to have a break out in the autumn chill. He stood next to the stone pillars that reminded him a little bit of stone hedge, even though he had only been there one time before. Once again his thoughts drifted back to a problem that had evaded solution for almost a week, how to become an Animagus. Most people would have likely given up after the failures that he had faced: choking on feathers, or having to pick out the much larger tail feathers (quite painfully) out of his behind, and even finding his ankles covered in scales.

From what he could tell his animal form was some kind of bird, and his imagination wandered about on what species he could be. Still he couldn't figure out what to do, that is until just now when a new idea came to him.

He could make his own spell!

Ancient style of course.

He began stirring up a melody in his mind, and absently looked down the hill, not really seeing the blonde haired Veela daydreaming at the bottom of said hill.

Fleur caressed the grass beneath her hand as her mind wandered on its own accord. An activity that was one of her few guilty pleasures as it didn't provide anything that was productive. And she didn't like admitting she had done something that she could show no results for.

Now she allowed herself a few precious moments, forcing herself to forget about the impending first task and live in the moment of ignorant bliss while she could.

But while she did her best to push those thoughts back, other ones came to the surface.

A tall muscular, brown haired boy she had met in Paris, who acted oh so serious. Except for her, he would let through a few awkward moments of playful flirts that she loved so much.

There was not another person that she had felt the same way about even though she had her passing flings with so many others, but they weren't Marcus. Every other one fell for her because she was a Veela, but Marcus could resist her if he wanted to.

No one could ever replace Marcus.

A shadow of a doubt began to cross her mind, Marcus was gone, but she saw something left of him, a fragment that it seemed he left behind just for her…Atticus.

No, No, no, something in her conscious attacked this idea. Atticus was not Marcus and it would be wrong to think of them as the same person. Still there was something in the way he looked at her.

Fleur didn't really hear the singing in her occupied state of mind even though her hand moved up and down in its rhythm.

My song is sweet to those that listen

But I can hear the Sweeter

I can hear the finch's songs

And Eagles screech!

Cries of Freedom

To mock us slaves

Our ankles sore from the ties that bind

The things that hold me to hear you

Your muddled cries drowning

Sweet melody!

Come take me swift creatures of the air!

Take me to where only song is heard!

After repeating the song until its rhythm was a part of his soul Atticus closed his eyes for the final verse in hope he had succeeded. When he opened them he was as shorter, and he felt as if he had to stretch his arms.

They felt longer than before…and it felt hard to pull them back in as if something was resisting them.

It was the wind, and while Atticus couldn't smile like he could as a human he would have as he started a run forward and flapped his wings as if he had done it since the day he was born.

A childish wonder elated his mind in ways that he hadn't felt in a long time when his feet skimmed the ground giving it a last farewell.

He pushed back with all his might against the air, flying forward, finally free.

"CRAAAAAAHAAAA!" He screeched in pure joy, watching the ground grow more distant with each stroke of his wings, leaving behind thoughts of Dark Lords, lost souls and forgotten faces, living only in the air, where the whole world could see him.

He was ancient, and because of that stubborn fact the Superbus pride had always been stifled, because as an ancient he could never be seen, he could never be heard, he was a footprint on the sand and the tide was always threatening to sweep him away. Because if he became anything other than a whisper in the wind he would be killed. It was a situation that when the Superbus pride won out was quickly followed by a swift death.

But that didn't matter to Atticus now; he was going to die no matter what happened, so now he was going to live! He was seen and heard by all, and now all knew the might of the last Ancient!

He glided over his domain, only a little tired from his flapping, before he dived down over the lake and found a brown bird of prey in his reflection.

He Was A Golden Eagle! The Master Of The Skies!

He let off another screech before giving another mighty flap of his wings and flew back to the little Stone Hedge. Atticus would have landed there too if he hadn't seen Fleur at the bottom of the hill. Disregarding his current form of being he landed right beside her, she didn't even bat an eye when the bird which was larger than her sat beside her, Veela usually get along very well with non-magical creatures.

"Why, hello there." She said in French as she smiled and reached her hand out to the bird of prey, who didn't even flinch away in the slightest.

"What are you doing out here, I didn't think your kind came down this far," Said Fleur running her hand across the neat brown feathers of the proud creature. She forgot about her troubles for just a little bit as she admired the eagle, after all they were a very rare sight. The eagle's muscular chest, sleek form, yellow beak and its brown eyes (ones uncharacteristic for such an animal) were all taken in by the Veela.

It was then that Atticus had an idea when he remembered one of the abilities of Veela.

He sprinted forward a bit and took off, and quickly reminded Fleur of the freedom of flight.

It was only a split second decision for her; she jumped up, stretched and closed her eyes. It felt like she was putting on an old, worn jacket that covered her from her head to her toes in warmness.

She moved her arms back and forth meeting the air resistance, and then she jumped forward and pushed her arms back, taking flight.

She opened her eyes as the Veela firebird, the Queen of The Skies!

She saw the Golden Eagle circling above her and flew up to join him.

The two birds of Prey circled each other for a moment before Atticus broke off and dived back to the lake with Fleur at his tail. Fleur playful nipped at his tail feathers and he screeched back at her equally playfully.

He flew even closer to the water, letting his talons rake across the crystal surface; Fleur copied him. The twin wakes of the beautiful birds traced along the lake.

Atticus pulled up glancing back at Fleur to see the beautiful firebird, her red and orange wings like a wild flame in the sky.

The two Masters of the Sky flew up in a spiral, both of them smiled inwardly as their wing tips touched the others just before they dove back down.

But something crossed Fleur, a human thought that brought her down to earth, the feast would be beginning soon and her headmaster would most likely lose her cool over the disappearance of her champion. With certain reluctance she flew back to the hill and transformed back to her normal form.

Fleur subconsciously brought her hands up to cover her body, while Veela were some of the most beautiful and seductive magical creatures in the world their firebird form was considered to be nightmarish and disgusting. She prayed to herself that no one saw her.

She looked back at the Golden Eagle, seemingly waiting patiently for her.

"I shouldn't keep you any longer," she told the bird sweetly.

The eagle seemed to nod with understanding and took off back into his domain.

The Veela looked down submissively and embarrassed, forgetting the wonder because of her fear for being seen as the scaled monster.

A/N: While J.K.'s only example of Veela turning into their bird form was when they became angry I think that it wouldn't make very much sense if that was the only time they could. Tell me what you think.


	10. Challenge Accepted

Chapter Ten

Challenge Accepted

Atticus was taping his hand on his desk while his students scribbled down answers for an assignment on Roman law he gave them. But he wasn't really thinking about that, having finally overcome his embarrassment of being under the Veritas serum he turned his attention back to his list of suspects, at the top of which stood Barty Crouch, who had left the same night the champions were chosen. Not that he could come up with any clear motive, from what Atticus could tell Mr. Crouch had imprisoned more Death Eaters than anyone else.

He shook his head frustrated, there were so many distractions: being an Animagus, Harry's own problems, Fluer. Maybe he should just forget all of that and…. "NO!" something inside of him shouted.

In his mind he recited the reasons why he did those things in the first place. He had to help Harry because it looked like no one else could, and while being an Animagus was something of a matter of pride it could still prove useful. And Fleur… well, he was having his fun but that could go downhill very easily. That isn't that a relationship with someone would be a bad thing. This time a heavy object in his pocket silenced that argument.

He was not going to have another girlfriend, end of discussion.

But one of the other "distractions" could be addressed right after class, that distraction being Harry Potter. Atticus felt he had an obligation to help the young wizard, mostly from not telling him that there could have been someone out to kill him. Then again Professor McGonagall had let slip that there had been other incidents were people had tried to kill "Young Mister Potter." Maybe he had gotten used to it.

The Ancient made quick review of his own life and the attempts to end it (which were more than he bothered to count) and quickly decided that Harry had probably not gotten used to it.

After all the students turned in their papers Atticus dismissed his class.

"Ah, but Harry, could I have a word with you?" Asked the Professor; Harry and Ron exchanged a glance but Harry went back up to the teacher's desk while his friend left him behind.

"Yes Professor?"

"You doing alright Harry?"

The question seemed to take him by surprise, "Er, yes Professor."

"You can call me Atticus for now. But are you sure about that because with all the people going around with 'Potter Stinks' badges I thought things might be getting to you a little bit. You know I saw what happened in the hall with you and Malfoy."

"It… just is irritating, everybody thinks I put my name in to get attention to myself. Ron thinks so too and thinks I'm a jerk. I don't even know what I'm going to do for the first task."

Atticus thought this over for a moment, "Well, I can't really help you much with the first task any more than I do in class as I don't even know what they're doing. But I do believe you."

"You believe me!"

"Of course I do, and I agree with Moody whoever is doing this is trying to kill you."

Harry looked gratefully at the teacher, happy to have him as an ally.

"If you see anything unusual I want you to come tell me. Alright?"

Harry nodded, not bothering to consider the Ancient's motives.

Atticus smiled at how easy that was and stepped out of the class to watch him leave but unfortunately something else was begging his attention. A furious looking Karkoff was storming his way to the Ancient's classroom.

"Professor Superbus!" Shouted the Headmaster as if Atticus had stolen his boat from the lake.

"Yes, can I help you?" asked Atticus pretending to ignore Karkoff's attitude.

"My students tell me about your little _demonstration_! You are an abomination to teaching, you simply show off and have taught nothing of use to my students!"

"My little demonstration occurred the first day of class with your students, is there a reason why I am only hearing about it now, and by the way I can't teach spells to your nitwits because they have absolutely no skill with Ancient poetry. Not that it would do them much good, from what I can tell they already know all the spells necessary to have a wizards duel. Which is what you are concerned about isn't it?" Replied Atticus smartly, remembering what people said about Dumstrang being all about the dark arts.

Karkoff stiffened, "Seems your one to talk, without your precious _Ancient Poems_ you are a helpless little pup!"

This time the Ancient's eyes filled with rage from the attack on his magic.

"You think so little of magic that destroys armies, and raised castles. But fine, you think I am useless without my song; than I challenge you to a Wizards Duel! I swear on the Vestal flame of Rome that I will not use the magic that is sung." Atticus had never backed down, not once in his life and he certainly wasn't going to today, even when Professor McGonagall caught wind of their conversation and rushed to stop their intentions.

Now at this point the ball was quite forcibly thrown into Karkoff's court, he could have easily refused the dual, but it was his honor on the line.

"Very well, Ancient, tomorrow after diner in the grand hall, I trust you will bring your wand!" Karkoff spat out his last words and turned around curtly to storm back down the hall.

It looked like McGonagall was going to chase after him, but instead she turned to glare at Atticus.

"We are going to the headmaster." She said angrily beckoning Atticus to come to his scolding.

A/N: Sorry about the shortness. Really only using this chapter for plot development. Don't worry if you think I may be portraying Harry as a little gullible; he'll wise up, but he does have tendencies to trust professors a little too easily. As always I would love it if people could tell me how I'm doing: Reviews Welcomed.


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